CHAPTER XII
Dawson City: In Civilisation Once More: High Prices: To Whitehorse on theDawson: Gamblers’ Tricks.
Dawson City: In Civilisation Once More: High Prices: To Whitehorse on theDawson: Gamblers’ Tricks.
Someone has defined enjoyment as the reflex of successful effort, and another has said that pleasure is largely a matter of comparison. That there is much truth in both remarks is unquestionable and the five days I remained at Dawson were the most serene and restful I had ever experienced. To be sure there were many stages where conditions had constantly improved since that anxious and wearisome time in the canoes; first the visit at Rampart House, next the trip in the row boat to Fort Yukon, then the rest in the road house there, followed by the trip on theLavelle Young. The few days’ passage on the latter should have been pleasant but unfortunately this ship had seen her best days, and very soon after starting it wasnoticed that through the opening of some old break the lower deck was half filled with steam, and the farther we went the worse it got. This not only lessened her speed by one half but caused us considerable uneasiness during nearly the whole passage. It was not pleasant to contemplate that after all, my trip might end up by a boiler explosion.
But here at Dawson I had again reached civilisation, where I received letters from home, the first since leaving Edmonton nearly three months previously. I also availed myself of the telegraph and set at rest any anxiety that my friends at home may have felt for my safety.
DAWSON CITY
DAWSON CITY
There were minor things that were necessary to transform me from the bushman of the north to a passable member of Dawson society. First the barber devoted his attention to me to the extent of a dollar and a half. I suppose it was worth it. On returning from the enjoyment of this civilising process I noticed in a shop window some newspapers presumably for sale, and it dawned on me that something might have occurred in the outside world during myabsence, so I bought a copy of aToronto Journalabout two weeks old and one of Vancouver of the week before, for which I paid the moderate sum of fifty cents. This reminded me that I was in a golden city. It also reminded me of the early days in Winnipeg before the copper coins were introduced. It was during the boom of 1882, when every one in Ontario thought himself unfortunate if he were not the possessor of some soil in the west. On a certain morning a gentleman who had only arrived in Winnipeg the night before stepped out from his hotel and met a newsboy from whom he took a copy of theManitoba Free Presshanding the vendor a cent in payment. The youngster looked at the coin and then handed it back with the remark for him to keep it as he might need it when he went back to Ontario. In Dawson they look with disdain on any currency of a smaller denomination than “two bits”—twenty-five cents.
I remained five days at Dawson waiting for a boat to Whitehorse, and, during that time had an opportunity of visiting the mines in its vicinity and of hearing the wonderful stories of the fortunes made by the pioneers fromthe sands of the Klondike and its tributaries. But the day for the hand miner with his rocker has passed and instead hydraulic mining and dredging has taken its place. The Guggenheims and others have purchased most of the old claims and it is interesting to witness the great streams of water tearing down the earth of the hillsides and revealing the old cribbing which the former proprietor had erected when the Dawson camp was the wonder of the continent.
The pioneers, as they deserved, got wonderful returns of coarse gold and exhausted the richest earth, but the men of capital still find sufficient left to reward them liberally for operations on a larger scale. The bed rock along the streams and the bottom land along each side is a soft mica schist easily scooped out with dredges; this almost invariably carries a fair percentage of gold, quite sufficient to bring a good margin of profit when so worked whereas it would not pay expenses if worked under the old system. What struck me very forcibly was the way in which the timber had been completely stripped from the hills, the larger for building purposes, for mining props andfor fuel, and the brush for building embankments to hold the tailings. Look in whatever direction you would and scarcely a green twig could be seen, and spruce wood for fuel was selling when I was there for thirteen dollars a cord.
The journey from Dawson City to Whitehorse, some 460 miles, was comfortably made on a well equipped steamer, theDawson. She left on Wednesday evening, August 22, and we arrived at Whitehorse on Sunday afternoon, August 26, and on the following morning at 9.30 we took the train for Skagway, arriving there at 4.30P.M.
This road, which is 111 miles in length, is a narrow gauge, but the road bed is good and the cars comfortable. Along the route as far as the south end of Lake Bennet there is nothing specially worthy of note. The soil is generally sandy. Jackpine and spruce, of little value for lumber, are seen along the track. After leaving Bennet, the road winds up the mountain to the summit of the pass, which is 2897 feet above the sea. Here we pass again into United States territory. The road descends twenty-one miles with a very steep grade to Skagway,at tidewater on an arm of the Lynn canal. The trip between Bennet and Skagway affords some exceedingly fine mountain scenery. In many places we pass near the snow line, and from Skagway a large glacier is visible. The country is almost devoid of timber. The rocks are granite, and in no part have I seen a more desolate landscape. Looking out of the car window as we glided swiftly down grade following a little mountain stream, we could see across the ravine the old trail of 1897, clinging close to the mountainside, while at short intervals were the abandoned bunk houses where the weary gold seeker sought shelter at night and freely parted with his coin for the privilege of spreading his blankets on a rough wooden floor.
Along this trail passed men from every country in Europe and America as well as a number from Eastern Asia each speaking a different tongue but all pressing forward to the Mecca of their hope and all with the one idea that of gaining riches from this great Northern Eldorado. If those old buildings could speak what tragedies they would reveal. Many a young man, so the storygoes, seeing his purse so depleted when he had reached Skagway that it would be impossible for him to reach his destination, soon beheld by the wayside a gambler’s chance of escape from his difficulties. There was always on hand an engaging young man to sympathise with him and to relate an experience similar to his own.
Then would come the interesting story of his success at cards through having learned the gamblers’ tricks. These he would impart to his new found friend who would introduce him to his comrades. There is no use pursuing the story further. The poor victim with an empty pocket book, and finding his hopes and dreams of great wealth all shattered, frequently the battle ended in a tragedy. The stories of those days, as sometimes related by the pioneers, are sad indeed.